


Not A Tragedy

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Bonding, Developing Relationship, F/M, Injury, M/M, Male Slash, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 09:00:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1299166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omega d'Artagnan is attracted to the Alphas Aramis, Athos, and Porthos. He can't understand why they're suddenly tense with him and each other and why aren't they acting on his obvious attraction to them? Where he comes from, an Omega can bond to more than one Alpha...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [bbcmusketeerskinkmeme](http://bbcmusketeerskink.dreamwidth.org/) prompt: _Athos, Aramis and Porthos are three happy Alphas, who are friends and respect each other a lot. Then suddenly young and very beautiful Omega - D’Artagnan - appears. All three want to claim him, but they don't want to ruin their friendship. What should they do?_

 

 

It was as though the air had been punched out of him, and not just because of the swordfight. d’Artagnan looked up at the three men, the Musketeers, who had just felled him, and his eyes widened. They were Alphas, extremely strong Alphas, and despite his determination to see his father avenged, something stirred inside of him as he gazed up at them.

 

 

Later, as he watched Athos being hauled away and as he searched for the truth with Aramis and Porthos, d’Artagnan could feel that something stirring harder and more insistently. He recognised it of course, he was an Omega, not an idiot, but he did his best to ignore it. Yes, the men were very attractive, but he had a mission to complete first.

 

 

Once the man who slaughtered his father was dead, d’Artagnan declined the invitation from the others to get a drink together, noting their flattering disappointment with a quiet smile, and went straight to Captain Treville’s office to register his Omega status. His father had always taught him to do these things properly.

 

 

Treville raised an eyebrow, but made a note in a large impressive-looking book. “You’re not the first Omega to join the Musketeers. You’ve worked with Alphas before?”

 

 

“Since birth, sir.”

 

 

“Good.” Treville motioned for him to come closer. “Your mark, please.”

 

 

d’Artagnan pulled the neckline of his shirt down to reveal the flowing Omega symbol inked onto his clavicle. Treville nodded, making another note. His own Alpha mark was visible on his right forearm.

 

 

“Anyone tries to command you due to your status, you tell me or any other Alpha here.”

 

 

d’Artagnan nodded, his jaw clenched. He’d rather dish out his own punishments to anyone who thought that because he was an Omega he was both weak and fair game, but the rules had been the same in Gascony – Omegas could defend themselves, but a punishment was always meted out by an Alpha.

 

 

Thanking the Captain, d’Artagnan made his way back to his lodgings where he sat down with Constance and her Alpha husband for a meal and some much-needed conversation. They had been good enough to take him in when he was far from reputable; the least he could do now was ensure that they were paid well.

 

 

Monsieur Bonacieux looked pleased about that, and generously poured d’Artagnan another cup of wine.

 

 

“If you need an Alpha to stand for you, I will do so.”

 

 

It was a kind and very unexpected offer. “Monsieur, you hardly know me…”

 

 

“You’re an Omega in a city you’re unfamiliar with and you work with soldiers. Believe me when I say that an Alpha outside of the barracks taking responsibility for you would be prudent.”

 

 

That did sound logical and d’Artagnan’s father had often said that every city had different rules. d’Artagnan drained his cup and folded his hands.

 

 

“Tell me, how would you be responsible for me? I know what that means in Gascony, but here…?”

 

 

It was Constance who explained that her husband would deal with any Alphas who came calling for d’Artagnan and that he would provide if d’Artagnan needed an Alpha’s familial touch. It was pleasingly similar to how things were in Gascony. Also d'Artagnan already believed that he could respect Bonacieux’s Alpha authority, he liked and appreciated how Bonacieux treated Constance; she was spirited and outspoken by nature, attributes that d'Artagnan had not seen Bonacieux smother. But he _had_ seen Bonacieux behaving as a good strong Alpha should, providing what his Omega desired and needed. Constance's respect and dedication to him was both obvious and heartening. d'Artagnan wondered briefly and longingly if he would ever be so lucky.

 

 

He dipped his head in thanks, a little overwhelmed still by the kind offer.

 

 

“Thank you, monsieur. I hope not to bring dishonour to your house.”

 

 

Monsieur Bonacieux snorted and pointed out just how much trouble d’Artagnan had already brought to his household. But he didn’t look too upset – the money probably helped – and Constance rested a hand on her husband’s knee, looking content. d’Artagnan grinned and replied that he couldn’t swear such trouble wouldn’t come calling again. He accepted the brush of Monsieur Bonacieux’s hand against his neck, enjoying the calming Alpha touch that didn’t carry any expectations. He didn’t have his father for that anymore, he was glad to have met the Bonacieuxs.

 

 

And if when he slept he dreamt of his three fellow Musketeers, then that was his business and nothing to be ashamed of.

 

 

*

 

 

The trouble started when Aramis brought d’Artagnan breakfast one morning. d’Artagnan thanked him and caught sight of Porthos glowering. Athos too looked tenser than usual. d’Artagnan narrowed his eyes slightly, what was going on? True, they frequently and good-naturedly teased each other and sometimes argued more seriously, but it was usually quickly forgotten. d'Artagnan greatly admired their depth of friendship and the clear affection and respect that they held for one another. He hoped one day to gain such a place among them.

 

 

Had something happened when he was not present, or was he dealing with three Alphas who couldn’t be professional around an Omega without posturing and possessiveness? That seemed unlikely, he'd seen how the three of them behaved towards Omegas, they were always respectful and pleasingly unpresumptous, Aramis was flirtatious but he never pushed when he truly wasn't wanted.

 

 

The three Alphas all froze, they could probably smell his disapproval. Their behaviour was better in patches after that. d’Artagnan privately admired their figures and fighting form, aloud he mocked them as much as they mocked each other and he appreciated that they never treated him like he was made of glass or as though he should be on his knees instead of sat beside them.

 

 

He liked them; he liked Aramis’s clever mouth and Porthos’s deep laugh and Athos’s intense stare. He liked how well they worked together – that boded well - and how they’d given him a chance to become part of that. He was attracted to them, as he was attracted to many Alphas, but with them, the feeling was deeper than just the simple desire to be under them for a night. Rather it was a sensation that he wanted to follow until he was pressed up against them permanently, breathing them in and baring his throat.

 

 

Athos was staring at him with dark eyes, Porthos had broken a plate, and Aramis was actually silent. Ah, they’d smelled that too.

 

 

d’Artagnan cleared his throat and went to order another bottle of wine, his heart thrumming wildly. He knew what he wanted, and now they knew too. He was surprised that they hadn’t noticed before, he’d been told that his scent could be particularly potent. They'd all been kept extremely busy recently though, with hardly any time spare to even take a breath, but now that the Captain had told them that they had at least a day to themselves, now that they _knew_ d’Artagnan was more than willing and eager, surely now they could all have what they wanted?

 

 

When he returned to the table though, the others were all tense and staring at each other. It was not a happy atmosphere. d’Artagnan looked at them each in turn, his brow furrowed.

 

 

“Do I need to leave until you sort this out?”

 

 

“No,” was the quick answer he received from all three, which was gratifying but also a little bewildering.

 

 

Later, he noticed them silently arguing over who got to accompany him home, until d’Artagnan rolled his eyes and said loudly “I’ll have a message sent to Bonacieux.”

 

 

That paused the fight and Porthos sniffed loudly, a scowl overtaking his face. “Bonacieux, has he been _touching_ you?”

 

 

d’Artagnan raised his eyebrows, this was getting ridiculous. “He’s my familial Alpha.”

 

 

The others all looked at each other, Athos speaking first. “You chose him, instead of…a Musketeer?”

 

 

“Choosing someone outside the barracks seemed sensible.”

 

 

The three exchanged another look and barely said anything as they all walked him home. d’Artagnan watched them leave with a face clouded with confusion. The following days were just as baffling, his friends were cordial and still treated him as an equal, they also still watched him avidly, causing his body to heat up. But they were very tense with each other, even confrontational on a couple of unfortunately memorable occasions, so confrontational that they almost came to blows. And none of them tried to scent-mark him or invite him to their lodgings. Whenever one of them touched d’Artagnan or suggested that they accompany him somewhere, they would then immediately look conflicted and strained.

 

 

d'Artagnan tried to discover what was wrong, but he couldn't get a true answer out of any of them. It was maddening. Constance took one look at him and went to find a great deal of wine.

 

 

“So which one is it?” she asked, with the air of someone bracing themselves for bad news.

 

 

d'Artagnan drained his cup of wine and then refilled it. “I could never choose between them.”

 

 

Constance frowned at him. “They aren't forcing you to, are they? Because if they are, I swear I'll...”

 

 

d'Artagnan waved off the very idea, slowly realising that perhaps there was a great deal he didn’t yet know about how Alpha and Omega relationships were conducted in Paris. He swallowed more wine before speaking.

 

 

“Is it unusual here for an Omega to have more than one Alpha?”

 

 

Constance coughed, laughed, and then looked at him with wide eyes. “You're serious. Is it _unusual_ in Gascony?”

 

 

d'Artagnan shook his head. “My Aunt Nanette was bonded to two Alphas, and I have a third cousin who is an Omega bonded to another Omega and two Alphas.”

 

 

Constance was silent for a little while, pouring herself more wine. The very fact that she was silent told d'Artagnan a lot.

 

 

Eventually she took a breath and held his gaze “Explain to me how such a thing is possible.”

 

 

d’Artagnan frowned, how could he explain something that had been a fact of life for as long as he could remember? He tried anyway.

 

 

“It’s the way it is for some, my parents were a couple, my aunt found happiness with two Alphas. My father said that her spirit was too much for just one.”

 

 

Constance laughed softly, the Omega mark on the cusp of her neck for once not covered by the fall of her hair. She didn’t look aghast at d’Artagnan’s revelation, more like she was working to unknot it.

 

 

“And the bond took, with two Alphas?”

 

 

“Of course, a bond is unlimited. My aunt’s bond with her Alphas was assessed and pronounced good and strong.”

 

 

“And you think your fate is to be the same as your aunt’s?”

 

 

d’Artagnan paused and thought about it, that feeling eager and pulsing inside of him. A bond with his three friends? It would explain the irritation and frustration they were all exhibiting, especially if they believed that only one of them could bond with him. None of them were willing to hurt the others. It was both heartening and utterly frustrating.

 

 

He’d lain with two Alphas before, just as he had lain with only one. Both experiences had been filled with pleasure. He had not assumed that he would follow his parents’ path or his aunt’s, but he _had_ assumed that he’d fully realise when a bond was beginning to form between him and someone else.

 

 

Constance smiled a little at his expression. “What do they smell like, to you?”

 

 

d’Artagnan relaxed automatically as he thought about it. “Warm metal and charcoal embers, and...”

 

 

“And home.

 

 

d'Artagnan looked at her. Yes, there _was_ a hint of the soil that he'd worked for so many years in Gascony, his father's barns, and the cool air of moonlight over that piece of land. His heart tugged.

 

 

“And you want those scents to stay with you.”

 

 

Constance wore a knowing expression and covered his hand with her own. The silence stretched between them, d'Artagnan truly absorbing his situation. He was beginning to bond with three Alphas, who might retreat from the very idea of such an apparently unconventional relationship. They might even ask him to leave the regiment. d'Artagnan would not choose only one of them; he wouldn't do that to them or himself.

 

 

Constance squeezed his hand. “Alphas need us. They won't be able to comprehend this without you, let alone truly become part of it.”

 

 

d'Artagnan cracked a sad but hopeful smile. “Is that what happened? You helped Bonacieux?”

 

 

“I made sure he knew in no uncertain terms that I wished to be his, yes.” Constance poured him more wine. “How else was I to get what I needed?”

 

 

d'Artagnan clinked his goblet against hers, familiar determination and a strength of feeling for his friends, his Alphas, unfurling within. Amen.

 

 

*

 

 

Sadly, before he got a chance to speak to his friends, they were all called upon to protect the King during a very delicate negotiation. A negotiation which culminated in swords being drawn and d'Artagnan being rendered unconscious by a severely powerful blow to his head.

 

 

The next thing he was truly aware of after that immense pain was Constance standing over him. He was lying down, in his room at her house. He tried to get up but his head hurt and something inside him was tearing and aching. He hissed, a fist clasped to his chest. Constance's mouth tightened, her hands gentle as she adjusted the bedclothes and checked him for a fever.

 

 

“You need to rest for the pain to leave. The Captain has granted you several days off to recover.”

 

 

At this point, she leaned in closely, so that her next words were a whisper hidden even from an Alpha's hearing. “Does it hurt inside? Where _they_ normally are?”

 

 

He hadn't thought of it in that way, but it was a frighteningly accurate description. d'Artagnan managed a tiny nod, which still hurt his head, and Constance drew back with a face like thunder. “Right.”

 

 

She swiftly turned and marched out of the room. d'Artagnan groaned, his head was thumping and why was his chest hurting so much? Why _that_ part of it? He became aware then of very loud voices – Athos, Aramis, and Porthos were arguing. d'Artagnan only caught snatches of it, aware of his name being used liberally, then Constance caught their attention sharply.

 

 

“You squabble like children! Upstairs, your Omega is hurting, he needs _all_ of you and you fight needlessly instead. Have none of you asked him what he wants? Have you asked about his family perhaps? The way that things are done in Gascony?”

 

 

There were murmurs that d'Artagnan couldn't quite catch before Constance spoke again. “You would know if you'd asked, if you'd heard stories of his aunt. Now, you will go to him, all of you, and you will not make things worse. Otherwise your presence will no longer be welcome here. Am I understood?”

 

 

There was a pause and d'Artagnan attempted to find relief from his pain, his eyes closed. When he opened them again, his three friends were crowded awkwardly in the doorway. He could not help smiling, his hands twitching to reach for them.

 

 

“Madame Bonacieux has set conditions on our presence here,” Aramis tried to be light, though his eyes were serious and worried. “Do you feel able to receive us?”

 

 

d'Artagnan nodded, which still hurt, and the others trooped in, halting before the bed. They clearly all wished to be closer but there was tension once more. d'Artagnan groaned, Constance was right, this could not continue.

 

 

“Closer, please,” he croaked.

 

 

The others looked at each other and then acquiesced. Aramis was carrying a bowl of soup, D'Artagnan noticed. Well, that made things easier at least.

 

 

“Porthos, could you...?”

 

 

d'Artagnan gestured behind him and Porthos, looking both conflicted and eager, carefully helped d'Artagnan sit up. d'Artagnan gripped his arm, not letting him leave.

 

 

“I need the support.”

 

 

Porthos paused for an agonising moment, but levered himself down, apparently unable to refuse such a request, his chest half-against d'Artagnan's back, his legs hanging off the bed. d'Artagnan took a deep breath and didn't miss Aramis and Athos’ stiff pained postures. He beckoned them forward.

 

 

“Please, let me…I'll explain more, just...come nearer.”

 

 

They both sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed, d'Artagnan reaching to grasp one of their hands each. He breathed in the especially-soothing Alpha scent that now surrounded him and luxuriated in their touch. They'd be able to smell how comforted and pleased he was, how could they not know what he truly wanted?

 

 

d'Artagnan rested like that for several moments, because who knew if he would gain such a thing again? Eventually he opened his eyes and found theirs locked onto him, as though they were tied to his every movement. It was heady indeed to witness such strong Alphas so unabashedly drawn to him. He had a responsibility here, d'Artagnan realised with a sudden inner pang, he could not break these men that he valued so, that he _loved_ on some level already.

 

 

He squeezed Aramis and Athos' hands and took a deep breath.

 

 

“This seemed so simple to me,” he started ruefully. “But I suppose you'd say that's where the trouble usually starts.”

 

 

Porthos chuckled, his hand caressing d'Artagnan's stomach. Aramis smiled slightly.

 

 

“We've been told that we should ask of your aunt...?”

 

 

Aramis sounded as though he had no idea why he was asking this and d'Artagnan smiled, this was the crux of it. Constance had given him the perfect opportunity, which was no doubt what she had planned. What would they think? Would they be receptive? d'Artagnan's heart pounded, Athos hadn't said a word yet but his stare hadn't left d'Artagnan either.

 

 

“My Aunt Nanette was my father's favourite sister, and she had two Alphas.”

 

 

There was a sharp intake of breath from Porthos but d'Artagnan ploughed on. “She was not unusual in Gascony for living so, there are many Alpha and Omega pairings of course, but there are also groups.”

 

 

Aramis very carefully put the bowl of soup down on the floor and wrapped both hands around d'Artagnan's, a bright look in his eyes. Encouraged, d'Artagnan continued.

 

 

“My Aunt was bonded to both Alphas, because in Gascony we were taught that a bond is not too small for such things. They were equal in my Aunt's eyes and in her heart. They were as happy together as my parents were.”

 

 

Athos stirred, he had not moved away yet. “There was no problem between her Alphas? No...jealousy or...?”

 

 

d'Artagnan shook his head carefully. “They became family to each other.”

 

 

Porthos' voice was a rumble that ran through d'Artagnan. “Are you saying that you want a bond with all _three_ of us?”

 

 

d'Artagnan swallowed and glanced around. None of them had pulled away; they were all still looking at him intently. He felt a wild beat of hope and nodded his head as slowly as he could. Words bubbled up and he did not stop them.

 

 

“I could never choose between you, the bond has already begun, and I...I feel...better when you're all here.”

 

 

There was a heavy silence and Aramis bent to retrieve the soup bowl. He carefully moved closer, to spoon the meal into d'Artagnan's mouth. There was something fiercely happy in the Alpha's eyes, his grip tight around the spoon handle. He did not look as though he was trying to form excuses or refusals.

 

 

“I've always said you need copious supervision.”

 

 

d'Artagnan swallowed down soup, and startled when he felt the press of Porthos' lips to his throat, forming words.

 

 

“Greedy, aren't you?”

 

 

Aramis touched a hand to d'Artagnan's jaw. “But quite beautiful.”

 

 

d'Artagnan pulled an offended face. “ _Quite_ beautiful?”

 

 

Portho laughed, his lips grazing d'Artagnan's skin again. d'Artagnan pressed into the touch, his chest feeling settled once more and a hunger and hope opening up inside of him too and...

 

 

And Athos had not let go of his hand. d'Artagnan darted a gaze towards the Alpha and watched as Athos exchanged meaningful looks with the others, looks that definitely spoke of relief and affection, before he deliberately raised d'Artagnan's fingers to his lips. Something sparked under d'Artagnan's skin; Athos wore a ghost of a smile and offered only a brief opinion, his touch revealing a weightier significance.

 

 

“Paris' preference has brought me little to savour.”

 

 

They were going to try this, d'Artagnan realised breathlessly, lifting a freed hand to tangle fingers in Porthos' curls. His friends were bold enough to try something that would shock and appal others, a fact that he reminded them of. Aramis looked amused as he spooned up more soup for d'Artagnan.

 

 

“Our lives have not been quite the same since you threatened Athos' life, d'Artagnan, if things had continued as they were, Treville would have soon called for us to split. I am more than willing to bow to such an...intriguing alternative.”

 

 

“You could part from each other,” d'Artagnan pointed out softly, hating the idea. “You could leave and find an Omega each.”

 

 

Aramis looked contemplative but shook his head. “Perhaps, but I’ve always preferred life’s more challenging byways.”

 

 

They preferred each other's company. D'Artagnan smiled and revelled in their closeness, in how the bond was growing, in how warm and settled he felt despite his pained head. They would have to talk more, perhaps they were merely placating him for now due to the shock of his injuries and would change their minds once he had healed and they had thought more on it. Despite such painful ruminations, d'Artagnan could feel himself slipping into sleep, their voices and scent lulling him to forgiving welcoming peace.

 

 

*

 

 

He did not know how long he slept for, but when he woke, the three Alphas were still there, arranged carefully around him. Their jackets and boots were piled up on a nearby chair and Porthos was snoring, d'Artagnan felt content and his head felt tender but much improved. He gazed at the others, stretching out a hand to stroke through Aramis' hair. Athos had clamped a hand to d'Artagnan's knee as though he feared d'Artagnan would disappear during the night and Porthos was still curled behind d'Artagnan, his strong weight a comfort and a reassurance. How could any believe that such a bond was impossible?

 

 

A sound alerted d'Artagnan to Athos' waking, the Alpha taking a breath and opening his eyes to immediately look towards d'Artagnan. d'Artagnan smiled, the expression growing when Athos' hand squeezed his knee. Athos didn't look tense or conflicted; he looked as though he couldn't tear his gaze from d'Artagnan. Still, d'Artagnan felt the urge to check.

 

 

“Your assurances, you're not all saying that to make me feel better?”

 

 

Athos' eyebrow arched. “I rarely say things I don't mean, d'Artagnan.”

 

 

“I know, I just...I know this is...unexpected for all of you and I don't want you to feel obligated...”

 

 

Athos carefully sat up, trying his best not to disturb the draped form of Aramis, and inched a little closer to d'Artagnan. “Your proposal is unorthodox, but the situation was hell before. I was ready to request reassignment, trying to take comfort in the fact that you would be cared for by someone I respect and trust, knowing that staying made any choice for you that much harder.”

 

 

He gently raised a hand and, when d'Artagnan did not object, brushed fingers against d'Artagnan's cheek. “Perhaps there are others in Paris who are bonded in such arrangements, a secret kept from the eyes of the city. I hope so, that others are privileged to enjoy such riches.”

 

 

d'Artagnan loosed a slight gasp, which curled with noise at the edges. He had never before heard Athos speak so much all at once, and now the Alpha was admitting to contentment? D'Artagnan swallowed, watching Athos track the movement, and pushed on.

 

 

“Do you feel anger, at seeing us like this?”

 

 

He tilted his head to indicate Porthos behind him and flexed the hand that was buried in Aramis' hair. Athos thought for a moment and then slowly shook his head.

 

 

“A flicker perhaps, a recognition that there are other Alphas here, but ones I respect and heed. It's strange, but it's as though the bond would not be as powerful without them.”

 

 

d'Artagnan smiled slightly. “Can you imagine being a Musketeer without them?”

 

 

Athos acknowledged the point with a nod and leaned in to press his lips chastely to d'Artagnan's. d'Artagnan sighed into the kiss, bringing a hand up to cup Athos' cheek. There was a warmth thrumming through him, an eagerness to complete the bond as soon as possible. The kiss was deepening, just as Aramis chose to interrupt.

 

 

“We can't leave you two alone for...oh, slightly longer than five minutes,” he sounded amused as he noticed the sun streaming in, trumpeting the early hour. “It's good to see you recover your appetite, Athos.”

 

 

Athos' mouth tilted upward and he made room for Aramis, who crawled forward to enthusiastically enjoy his own first kiss with d'Artagnan. His mouth was sweet against d'Artagnan's, the Omega pressing forward to drink in more of Aramis. Athos' hand was stroking his thigh, and d'Artagnan moved too eagerly, too giddily, his head twinging loudly in response. He hissed with pain and felt Porthos shift, the Alpha's large hands rising to support d'Artagnan's head, massaging carefully at the sore spots. d'Artagnan's hiss became a sigh.

 

 

When Aramis finally drew back, d'Artagnan allowed Porthos to turn his head into a kiss, tongues

 

meeting, the bond furthering again. Aramis looked almost stunned when d'Artagnan finally turned back around, Porthos' arm curled possessively around his waist.

 

 

“Extraordinary,” Aramis murmured, turning slightly to Athos. “Have you ever felt anything like it?”

 

 

“No,” Athos replied shortly and d'Artagnan thought of Athos' wife, an ever present chain winding throughout the Alpha’s thoughts and emotions, and wondered just what had happened to fracture Athos so.

 

 

He felt honoured that Athos was willing to try something like this, perhaps he found safety in numbers, perhaps he trusted them all enough. Perhaps he had not bonded to his wife.

 

 

“This will be an adventure,” Aramis declared, with some relish, one hand territorial on d'Artagnan's neck.

 

 

Porthos glanced at it briefly, but there was no tension or unhappiness prevailing. They were all getting used to their strange new path; for once, d'Artagnan thought with not-well-hidden amusement, he really did have more knowledge of a situation than his comrades.

 

 

But just as swiftly d'Artagnan's good mood dimmed slightly and he cursed his Omega nature in a way that he rarely ever did, because he felt needy, much more so than usual because he was close to Alphas he was beginning to bond with, and there were still slivers of anxiety slicing through him. He knew what he wanted, but Aramis and Porthos were used to often taking lovers, beta or Omega, and they had never shown an inclination towards bonding before and...

 

 

Porthos firmly squeezed a hand at d'Artagnan's hip. “Too many thoughts.”

 

 

d'Artagnan made a noise at the feel of Porthos' hand and leaned into him, needing the reassurance and refusing to feel shame about it. His father had always taught him that Omega urges were nothing to sneer at, they were natural, they were part of him, and any good Alpha would recognise that and act accordingly.

 

 

d'Artagnan took a breath, soaking in their presence. These Alphas, _his_ Alphas, had never made him feel bad, they'd challenged him to prove himself as a Musketeer, Omega or otherwise. He turned to kiss Porthos again, gratitude and desire mingling between their lips.

 

 

“Oi, we're here, aren't we?” Porthos said firmly and quietly, deftly discerning the Omega's mood.

 

 

d'Artagnan bit Porthos' bottom lip. Aramis' hand, still at d'Artagnan's neck, flexed and stroked. And d'Artagnan was aware of Athos, aware of his stillness and silence and the fact that he was actually close to being relaxed. There was no discomfort from any of them.

 

 

Porthos smiled and kissed the edge of d'Artagnan's mouth. “You think we don't know what we're doing?”

 

 

d'Artagnan gave him a look that said a lot. “Absolutely.”

 

 

“Never stopped us before,” Aramis put in, as though that was the final word on the matter, for now at least.

 

 

He pulled d’Artagnan in for a quick but thorough kiss and then abruptly got to his feet. “Breakfast and then we move you into Athos' lodgings. I doubt Madame Bonacieux wishes to overhear any more, or at least her husband wouldn't want her to.”

 

 

d'Artagnan allowed Athos and Porthos to help him his feet, groaning at how tired his muscles felt after the fight and injuries of the previous day. Athos tucked an arm around d'Artagnan's waist, d'Artagnan leaned into him, Porthos still close at his other side. d'Artagnan felt a little hazy, but mostly, he was filled with a good feeling, a secure one, one he was going to cling to as fiercely as he clung to his other priorities. He frowned though as he thought through Aramis' words.

 

 

“Why Athos' lodgings?” he asked.

 

 

Aramis laughed. “Mine are hardly large enough to accommodate us all and Porthos' landlady would have a fit.”

 

 

“Yours won't let you go easily,” pointed out Porthos with an expression that promised a very entertaining story.

 

 

d'Artagnan breathed them in and nuzzled against Athos, enjoying how openly Athos responded, for him, accepting the touch and pressing into d'Artagnan in return, giving the Omega what he wanted. That gave birth to a thought that made d'Artagnan smile widely.

 

 

“That's good to see,” Athos murmured, trailing a finger across d'Artagnan's mouth.

 

 

His words got Aramis and Porthos' attention and d'Artagnan's smile widened even more. “I haven't gone into heat since before arriving in Paris.”

 

 

There was a collective intake of breath from the Alphas and all three pressed closer, mouths and teeth grazing d'Artagnan's skin. He moaned, thinking about bearing their bites on his neck.

 

 

“ _Greedy_ ,” muttered Aramis, though he sounded as though he approved.

 

 

d'Artragnan's expression became slightly nostalgic. “I've never received any complaints.”

 

 

Porthos' eyes glittered and his teeth bit a little deeper. “Have you ever been taken by three Alphas before?”

 

 

d'Artagnan swallowed, he could feel himself dampening in his breeches, which the others would be able to smell, and shook his head. “Two, sometimes.”

 

 

“Did it ever feel like enough?”

 

 

d'Artagnan remembered the Alphas he'd happily slept with, both when in heat and otherwise. Thanks to the special tea his mother had taught him about, he never feared getting pregnant, and so tied to an Alpha that he wasn't bonded to. But still, he'd only ever trusted himself to Alphas who were his friends during his heat. They hadn't tried to claim him; they'd enjoyed taking care of an Omega. They'd always said that few things felt better than an Omega in heat. He'd always thoroughly enjoyed himself too. What would it feel like to experience that with three Alphas, Alphas he cared for so greatly and was bonding to?

 

 

“At the time,” he said at last, not wanting to disrespect his friends or the experiences he'd had with them.

 

 

Aramis nipped at his throat. “Another adventure then, to look forward to once you’ve healed.”

 

 

d'Artagnan's breath quickened, and he felt Athos' grip on him increase. He could smell the breakfast that Constance was cooking, no doubt for him and not the others. If Aramis attempted to help himself to a plateful, he'd feel the back of her hand again. d'Artagnan would return to visit her as often as he could, and her husband. They'd been very good to him.

 

 

“We'll get you back into fighting shape too, of course,” Aramis continued.

 

 

d'Artagnan lit up at the reminder that his Alphas weren't going to insist he stop in his quest to become a Musketeer, that he shouldn't cease and immediately bear one of them a child. That was for later, surely. No matter how strong the bond became, he would hold steadfast to his apprenticeship and hopefully one day to a position as Musketeer. As Treville had said, there were several Omega Musketeers already. Like them, d'Artagnan would prove every day that Omegas were just as strong and capable as Alphas. Both had their parts to play equally, that was what his father and mother had taught him. He wished, briefly and powerfully, that his parents were still alive to meet his Alphas.

 

 

Porthos tugged him a little closer; he'd no doubt felt the tremor of d'Artagnan's grief. d'Artagnan was going to have to get used to that, that connection. Athos pressed a hand to d'Artagnan's hip silently, he knew what it was to grieve and live on with such a weight. d'Artagnan could do that too.

 

 

“We'll have to inform Treville,” Athos reminded them all.

 

 

Aramis smiled brilliantly. “I volunteer to be the one to tell him.”

 

 

Porthos snorted and d'Artagnan's smile was bright and fierce, more than buoyed by the touches of his Alphas and the happiness that streamed through the bond. Athos was right; no matter what happened, they were gifted with riches, blessed indeed to experience this, together.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

When d'Artagnan's heat hit, he was walking back towards the barracks after the completion of a successful mission. Aramis had an arm thrown around d'Artagnan's shoulders and was describing a poem that had gotten him thrown out of particularly comfortable lodgings on a very cold night. As d'Artagnan had discovered, success usually that meant his Alphas would be keen to celebrate. He always looked forward to that, a successful mission aroused him too.

 

 

He had noticed a twinge or two of heat during the preceding days, a warning which he had let his Alphas know about. They had all been extremely interested. Aramis had spoken to him at length in low husky tones about the things d'Artagnan would experience with the three of them. Apparently they had been thinking about it for some time and at great length, knowing that an Omega in heat would trigger their most base instincts which could override their bond with each other and so lead to bloodshed.

 

 

d'Artagnan was worried about that, but Aramis had noticed that the Omega had been smiling too, an expression at curious odds with his voiced concern. “I assume your aunt had some fascinating stories to tell?”

 

 

d'Artagnan had smiled even wider. He hadn't said that his Aunt Nanette had once conspiratorally confided that the bond between herself and her Alphas had meant that her heat was always a most exhausting pleasurable experience. Had she already realised by then what would await d'Artagnan in his future? d'Artagnan hadn't felt an indication but perhaps something in his behaviour, in his interactions with Alphas, had revealed to his aunt what his future might hold. She had certainly equipped him with anticipation rather than fear. He was grateful for that.

 

 

When d'Artagnan's heat hit though, he was not expecting it. It had never hit him so hard and heavy before, perhaps the fact that he was close to bonding with his three Alphas triggered it in such a way. Whatever the cause, it hit him so hard that he staggered a little, causing his Alphas to immediately reach for him. Then they breathed in and they knew. D'Artagnan whimpered.

 

 

Aramis, despite being closest, focused the quickest, full of ideas. “Porthos, send a message to the Captain. Athos, let's get ourselves to your lodgings before he draws every Alpha in the surrounding area.”

 

 

Because they weren't completely bonded yet – though even a strong bond wouldn't put some Alphas off – d'Artagnan would draw Alphas to him like moths to flames. To scent an Omega in heat was something few Alphas could resist, their urge to mate overcoming all rational thought.

 

 

d'Artagnan was not much better, moaning and pressing desperately to Aramis. He could feel himself dampening; he could smell Aramis' arousal and want.

 

 

“I know,” Aramis soothed, his voice raw. “Soon, you'll have all you need.”

 

 

All d'Artagnan could feel was heat and the need to rut and spread his legs. He could hardly walk; could hardly focus on anything but his own need and the scorching heat rolling through him. Athos murmured quietly beside him, and there was Porthos close behind now, having had a message sent to Captain Treville. d'Artagnan whined, he wanted them all and he wanted them now and why couldn't he?

 

 

Athos squeezed a hand around the back of d'Artagnan's neck, his voice tight and low. “Hold on.”

 

 

They weren't far from Athos' lodgings and were soon quickly up the stairs, Athos only pausing to explain to his landlord and promising to pay should the room become damaged.

 

 

d’Artagnan pressed his mouth to Aramis' as soon as they were past Athos' door and Aramis immediately returned the pressure, eager hands stripping d'Artagnan of his clothing, a task which Athos and Porthos both determinedly applied themselves to also. d'Artagnan gasped at the rush of cool air, a noise which only become louder once the Alphas surrounding him divested themselves of their clothing too and began crowding against him.

 

 

So far, there were no snarls that signalled a fight for dominance. The most animal of their Alphas instincts were absolutely to the fore though, d'Artagnan could hear the panting and the growls, he could feel how hungry their hands and lips were. He could feel how much that stoked his heat.

 

 

There were fingers slipping inside of him, fingers sliding into his mouth, distracting him until he found himself lying on Athos' almost sizeable bed. He looked up at his Alphas, seeing how dark their eyes were, how strong they smelled, how greedily they were all touching him.

 

 

Porthos took the lead though, sliding a hand between d'Artagnan's legs, making d'Artagnan cry out. It was glorious, but it still didn't feel like enough. Porthos kissed him hungrily, quickly replacing his fingers with his cock, thrusting in without hesitation, knowing from experience that d'Artagnan could take it. But everything felt like so much _more_ now, d'Artagnan was more sensitive and desperate and he responded to every movement with sounds that inflamed his Alphas.

 

 

Aramis soon had a hand worked between them, wrapping fingers around d'Artagnan's length, bringing him quickly to completion. d'Artagnan sighed, his heat not in the least bit sated. He knew that his heat would last several days. How glad he was not to be alone in coping with it. Once or twice he had suffered through a heat without a single partner, and it had been hell.

 

 

Porthos was still thrusting and d'Artagnan could feel the Alpha's knot begin to swell. He moaned and spread his legs further. Porthos bit his shoulder, coming as the knot stretched d'Artagnan. It was exactly the kind of burn he needed. Porthos lapped at d'Artagnan's sweaty skin and eased them both onto their sides. d'Artagnan rocked against the knot, getting the pleasure his heat demanded.

 

 

Athos pressed up behind him, his fingers caressing d'Artagnan's nipples and his cock hard against d'Artagnan's thighs, and Aramis smiled, one hand languidly stroking his own length.

 

 

“I'd fill your mouth if there was room,” he announced, sounding a touch put out that he couldn't.

 

 

d'Artagnan moaned at the thought and rocked harder against Porthos who rested his hands at d'Artagnan's hips. d'Artagnan felt as though he was drowning in pleasure. He watched through half-lidded eyes as Aramis ran an affectionate hand down Porthos' side and then tugged sharply and suddenly at d'Artagnan's hair, gaining a full-throated grasp and groan from the Omega.

 

 

Hazily d'Artagnan noted that the Alphas in his life had found a way to both satisfy themselves and him without devolving into jealousy or brawling. They were often possessive and territorial, that was expected. He felt the same way about them. It was their strong tie of friendship and affection that allowed them to view each other not as threats but as part of their bond with d'Artagnan. d'Artagnan felt more than lucky.

 

 

Some time later, d'Artagnan had reached several more climaxes and Porthos' knot had eventually gone down. Aramis licked at the stickiness that coated d'Artagnan's skin and finally got to fill d'Artagnan's mouth while Athos arranged d'Artagnan on all fours and pressed his cock in from behind.

 

 

The Alphas were endlessly inventive and for many hours, were incapable of words, only of touch and filling d'Artagnan. They did not deny him what he needed for a single moment. They did not deny him each other.

 

 

They made sure he ate and drank plenty of water and wine and the tea that d'Artagnan insisted on. The thought of growing big with the child of any of them made him moan even more and press frantically closer. One day perhaps, if the Musketeer life allowed it. He fervently hoped that it would.

 

 

d'Artagnan smiled when he saw Aramis kiss the hollow of Athos' throat as Athos pushed again into d'Artagnan, and when he later caught sight of Porthos smoothing a hand across Aramis' chest. d'Artagnan had known many Alphas who found pleasure with each other, though they had never stopped enjoying the company of Omegas too, needing what only an Omega could provide. He wondered if his Alphas would enjoy one another so thoroughly in the future as well. He hoped so; it would make the bond stronger, and it would be wonderful to watch. And they already meant so much each other already.

 

 

The day finally dawned when d'Artagnan could feel that his heat fading somewhat. The room stank of couplings and showed evidence of their enthusiasms; Athos was going to owe his landlord a handsome sum. d'Artagnan ached in many places, but it was a good bone-deep soreness. He leaned back and kissed Porthos who twitched and then prised his eyes open. His smile wasn't irritated though, not when he laid eyes on d'Artagnan.

 

 

“You're done,” he noted, sniffing the air.

 

 

d'Artagnan nodded and nuzzled back against the large Alpha. He felt entirely loved and he knew then, there was only one thing left to do and that it was absolutely what he wanted.

 

 

“Make your mark.”

 

 

Porthos looked at him with intense eyes. “You're sure.”

 

 

“I think it's inevitable at this point, isn't it?” d'Artagnan's smile faltered. “At least, it is for me...”

 

 

Porthos' large callused hand was gentle against d'Artagnan's face for a moment, then without further hesitation, he swooped down and bit hard at the juncture where d'Artagnan's neck met his shoulder.

 

 

D'Artagnan groaned, his cock stiffening again somehow as a powerful feeling swept over him. It felt like a good tasting wine and a rare win at cards. Porthos' part of the bond snapped into completion.

 

 

Porthos licked at the mark, once he finally let go, his noisy ministrations waking Aramis. He immediately realised what had occurred and urged d'Artagnan to bare the other side of his neck. He kissed the area first, then d'Artagnan's mouth.

 

 

“We are going to _scandalise_ Paris,” he murmured with characteristic amusement and something deeper and richer and true.

 

 

He bit down firmly and d'Artagnan arched between the two Alphas. Porthos held him steady, his thumbs stroking circles at d'Artagnan's hips. Aramis' bond clicked into place, feeling like joyful laughter and prayer and the crest of a climax.

 

 

Aramis kissed his mark and then kissed d'Artagnan once more, his tongue flickering against d'Artagnan's teeth, before he moved smoothly out of the way, allowing a considerably awake and hard Athos to take his place. Athos stroked a hand through d'Artagnan's tangled hair, his gaze smouldering as his hand stroked d'Artagnan's hard cock. d'Artagnan whined and tried to thrust into the touch but Porthos' grip prevented him, making him noisy in his need.

 

 

Athos didn't say anything, he looked at d'Artagnan for a long moment, so much in his eyes, before he chose a spot high up on d'Artagnan's neck, almost beside his ear, and bit down decisively. d'Artagnan thrashed, the bond was complete, feeling like the perfect sword movement, the intensity of a storm.

 

 

d'Artagnan felt a hand wrap around his cock and Porthos finally allowed his hips to move once more. In a matter of moments, he reached completion, panting into Athos' neck. He smeared lips across Athos' skin until he found a stubbled jawline, Aramis settling between d'Artagnan's legs, uncaring of the mess he wallowed in.

 

 

The three of them stayed silent for a while, interconnected and touching, breathless and overwhelmed by what existed between them to the fullest degree now. They would have to tell Captain Treville about the completed bond, and Constance and her husband. Nobody else truly mattered.

 

 

Eventually, they would bathe and scrub each other clean. d'Artagnan would frequently admire their Alpha ink marks – Porthos' on the back of his hand like a warning to all he met, Aramis' a poetic declaration low at one side of his waist, while Athos' was inked almost over his heart. d'Artagnan would trace them with his tongue and keen when they did the same to his.

 

 

They would likely have a couple of days to grow used to the fully-formed bond and how it affected them. Wrapped up in the lurid scent and several warm wanting bodies, d'Artagnan pinched at Aramis' side when the Alpha rested too heavily on a sore spot and smiled when Athos lapped thoroughly at his collarbone, concentrating intently on his task.

 

 

d'Artagnan's thoughts wandered, buoyed by the aftermath of astonishing pleasure and joyful full contentment, until he found himself thinking of his Aunt Nanette, buried with both her Alphas in Gascony, the sweating sickness had claimed them all several years ago. One of her Alphas had died first, she and the other Alpha had died within weeks of him and within days of each other. It was the sickness that had taken them, as it had taken many in Gascony that year, but when the first of her Alphas had become ill, she had said definitively that she could not live without either of them.

 

 

d'Artagnan felt as though he truly knew what she meant now.

 

 

Perhaps sometime soon he would go back and visit her grave. Perhaps he would take his Alphas with him.

 

 

_-the end_


End file.
